Knockout (Gaslight spin-off)

27| No distractions

My lips ignite the moment he claims them. His arms snake around me, sliding up my bare, exposed back before gripping the back of my sports bra. It's still hard to process this is actually happening – that my body is tangled in his. From the first day I met him, I'd vowed to suppress any feelings he invoked, and now they're taking over.

He suddenly lifts me, wrapping my thighs firmly around his waist. He walks us back as if I weigh nothing and pushes me against the ropes. I let out a breath, my legs growing weak as they tighten around him, forcing his breath to quicken.

The part of me still thinking straight prepares to end this, but my body betrays me. Instead, it draws him closer, pulling him against me until every hard angle can be felt between our clothes. Until I can no longer breathe.

His chest shutters, and I can taste his control slip away. My hands run over the sharp angles of his shoulders. Every muscle is taut as he holds me suspended, but he doesn't break our kiss. His mouth lashes mine, a sign that his well-controlled exterior is crumbling, and it's all because of me.

The thought unravels me. I pull back a little, trailing the hard, controlled line of his jaw to get to his gaze. It's dark and heavy, filled with a heat that scorches my skin, but I couldn't move away if I wanted to.

"Come here," he murmurs.

"Sir, yes, sir."

His eyes flit upward, laced with frustration. "What did I tell you?"

I try to remember, but all I can think about is how badly I want him to touch me. Not in the innocent way that I'm used to, but in a set me on fire, I'm ready to burn way. "My mouth will get me in trouble."

As if to punish me, he snakes a hand around the back of my head, forcing me closer. His next kiss comes harder, commanding control the way he does in the ring, and I finally give in to him. My legs tighten around his torso, enjoying the friction it creates. For once, the heat in my stomach isn't out of fury but something equally as terrifying.

Weeks of frustration seem to spill to the surface. He's touching and tasting, desperate to punish me for every smart remark, and despite all the reasons I know this is wrong, I'm all too happy to let him. His mouth breaks from mine and trails down my throat, forcing me to moan audibly.

That's what does it – what shatters the last of his weakened resolve. He spins me around, lowering me onto the mat before sliding over me. I gasp again, surprised by the domineering look in his eye, but I've never felt more unraveled.

Eyes closed, I bunch my hands in the front of his t-shirt, trying to steady my nerves. The truth is, as confident as I'm pretending to be, I can't manage to silence Auden's words about not being Nico's type.

"Look at me, Cassandra."

My eyes flit to his, which are dark as coal as they take in my face. His gaze is demanding, challenging me to put a stop to this thing, but like a fool, I don't move. "Don't call me that."

He lowers his head, allowing his mouth to graze my cheek on its way to my ear. "Cassandra."

My throat thickens. Maybe it's the lack of air in this room, but suddenly, my lungs stop working. The corner of his mouth ticks like he knows what he's doing, which only urges me on.

Feigning bravery, I draw his mouth toward me and kiss him. He responds by sliding his hand up my thigh and over my stomach. His fingers reach the band of my sports bra, trailing over the thin material and sending quick pulses through my skin. As if he knows this, he lets his thumb gently graze across my nipple, instantly making it harden.

"Fuck," he says.

My breath hitches, and something explosive builds in my chest. This is wrong, and I know it. He's supposed to be my coach, for one, not to mention he's hated at GymCon. If anyone finds out, I won't just be banned from using the equipment; I'll be outcasted.